Tempted as he was to let the scene just play out, Tor knew that letting his boss die probably wouldn't look good when he applied for the next one. Instead he walked over carefully, trying not to slip on the silk and stone frame under his feet and simply slapped the knife out of the Counts hand. Or Duke or whatever the hell the giant was. Being that big and well dressed, he had to be someone, didn't he?
As his palm hit the side of the man's hands, Tor's shield kicked in, making the blow hit with a more solid presentation than his soft little hand would have normally allowed for. The first blow didn't work, nor the second, but on the third the knife left the bigger mans hands. The guy was livid, but not in a combat rage, so Tor just pushed him off the man in cream and goldenrod yellow with his left foot and stood waiting, ready to fight if need be, hoping it wouldn't turn out that way.
The man climbed to his feet fairly slowly and tried to hit Tor, just to have the blow stopped in the air. The man stuck again getting a look and crossed arms in return. It should have been obvious that the current technique wasn't working, which normally got royals to pull a magical weapon of some kind, but this one just stopped after a while and stood with his chest heaving. Smythe stood a lot more smoothly than a fifty odd year old normally managed and seemed almost unperturbed by the fact that this fellow had just tried to kill him not thirty seconds prior.
“Oh, There you are Tor. Did the King send you already? I'd thought to give you what time I could before we went to work, but things are rather more delicate and pressing than I'd anticipated.” The man didn't take his eyes off the large attacker, but didn't seem worried either. Kind of smug actually. Tor knew the look well. Checking the older man's field for injury, it was plain that the guy was freaked. So it wasn't smugness but fear? Abject and pure terror? Oh. Well. Tor nearly felt a little better about Smythe then. At least he wasn't just taunting the man on purpose, simply covering his own perceived weakness.
“Not from the King, no. Just bringing a present actually, here.” Tor carefully slipped the amulet onto the man’s neck and mimicked tapping the sigil, the instant that happened the other man stopped puffing in anger nearly as much and stared, either fascinated or terrified, Tor couldn't tell.
The right hand that wasn't there appeared and morphed rapidly as the old man looked at it himself. After a minute the hand that sat on the end of his arm looked as much like the original as Smythe's subconscious mind would allow. It was nearly perfect. The older man moved it carefully, then felt it with his other hand.
“Very good. Thank you.” He said, as if Tor had brought him a glass of cool water and not a new hand.
It nearly made Tor do a little happy dance like the combat giants from school sometimes did when things went well for them, because he'd half been afraid that the Counselor might get all emotional or try to hug him. Instead it was a simple thanks and back to work? That was manageable. The other man's mouth gaped.
“You grew his hand back?”
“Oh, no, not really, it's not real, just a magic hand. It works and feels though.” Tor looked at the screen under their feet, it was a bit scuffed, but looked salvageable.
“Here, let's get these things set back as well as we can and then deal with what caused it. Smythe wasn't trying to kill you was he? I hate it when he does that to me. Really annoying.”
The man stopped for a second.
“Uh, no? He was accusing me of killing and raping young girls. Said if I couldn't prove it under some lie telling thing, or wouldn't, that it meant I was guilty. I told him to shove his magic trick up his ass. I'm a Baron, not some stupid kid from the hills. You think I don't know how easy it is to get a fancy magic light these days? I own a dozen myself.”
It was kind of a fair point so Tor nodded.
“Well, that kind of makes sense, still, the truth devices are solid. I made them myself, like Smythe’s new hand? The real point though is about those girls, you didn't kill them you say?” Tor focused and cleared his mind, trying to sense the pattern of the man. Baffled but not lying, not totally.
“Of course not. I already told him that!” A large fist closed again and looked ready to swing.
Tor turned to Smythe again.
“He's not lying. We should get him to agree to the full interview, just for the sake of records and all that, for the King, but he's not the killer.”
The Counselor smoothed his robes.
“Obviously. But we have to clear everyone. Still, I apologize for trying to force your hand Baron Rochester. It was a bit underhanded of me. I was going for expediency rather than diplomacy and I can see now that was a mistake. I'm sorry about that.”
Tor spun and smiled at the big Baron, “See? Just a misunderstanding all around, no need for hard feelings, well, shall we go and get the interview finished? Obviously we know you're innocent, I just read the truth of that in your field, so I’m not just saying that either. That's not the issue here. What we need from you now is any information that you may have that can help us find who is. The thing there is that you may not know that you have any information like that. Anything could be the piece we need. Are we set up in there?” Tor pointed and walked in as if he knew what he was doing, just hoping the others would follow.
The set up was familiar at least, several devices that took in sound and would repeat it later were sitting on the table, along with a couple of the truth amulets and a glass of water. Tor gestured to the chairs in turn.
“Alright if I do this one Counselor Smythe? I need the practice.” With the giant still worked up, it made sense to get the object of his rage a little out of the way, didn’t it?
The Counselor chuckled, looking straight into Tor's eyes, his face… kindly.
“By all means. I seem to have made a hash of it already, you can fix it for us.”
The Baron let Tor explain the truth device, which he did in much greater detail than normally would be the case, since the man seemed so uncertain about it actually working. Then once the man was set up Tor tried to keep things conversational and friendly.
“So, Barron Rochester, you just said you were innocent of the killings in question, but we have to get things for the record, would you repeat that for us?”
Without much pause he did, the field staying solid cream and yellow the whole time.
Then Tor walked him through everything the man knew about the killings, which he did as a personal narrative. It wasn't until they got to the seventh girl that the field went black.
“You said you didn't know her? But that's not exactly true is it? Who was she to you?” Tor didn't attack the man with it, not wanting to set him off, but the guy clearly looked agitated.
“I… knew her. Some years ago, we had… a dalliance. It wasn't a large thing, but she was a little under aged at the time, so I felt I shouldn't mention it.” That was all true, but Tor didn't let it go at that. A lot of nobles had sex with girls and boys that weren't strictly legal, fourteen being the age at which a person could consent to such things by kingdom law. That this man was trying to hide it meant that he felt ashamed of it. People would snicker if he had a relationship with a thirteen year old or even a twelve year old…
“How old was she then? That information doesn't have to leave this room.” Smythe put in casually.
The man hemmed and hawed, but finally told them.
“Ten.” He said, looking down at the table top, embarrassed.
As well he should be. The man was clearly in his mid thirties and the girl that had just died was only sixteen. That meant the man was way too old for her at the time too. Tor felt his face go cold as the blood rushed from it. A slight trembling that he really wasn't used to came into his arms and shoulders. After a few seconds he thought he got it.
Rage.
Ah.
“Well, we won't report that, except to the King, of course.” Tor said softly. “Have you done it again, taken a girl that young for a lover?”
“No.” The man said, his light staying pure.
Good. Tor didn't know if he couldn't have hidden the body well enough to just make the man vanish. Or, well, he could, of course. Just drop the body into the sea halfway to Soam. It was something to keep in mind. Or use an explosive weapon on him. That could work with one of the new type.
“Alright. Well, you and I are going to have a personal problem over that in a few minutes, but for now it's clear you don't have anything to do with these murders.”
Smythe gave him a horribly strange look, probably because Tor was being so unprofessional that it was unheard of. Luckily that didn't faze him at the moment, Tor decided. Standing he gestured for the man to follow him and started towards the back of the palace complex, hoping that using it for this kind of thing wouldn't bother the Royal Guards much. Maybe he could buy them off with hand pies later? Once in their practice square, Tor turned and looked at the man.
“We agreed not to mention what was said outside the confines of that room, and without saying why, I can't challenge you properly to a duel. So instead it looks like a good old fashion fight.” Dark clad figures moved in quickly, closing off the entrance with their bodies, weapons to hand. Wensa and George were both there, along with ten others, but none of them spoke. In fact, Tor doubted that the Baron even realized he was surrounded like he was.
The man laughed.
“Oh? A little boy is going to fight me? Hardly a fair fight is it?”
Tor tilted his head. That was true. He had a shield on, and was very well armed after a second he turned off all his amulets and handed them to Wensa, except for his clothing amulet. Now it was fair.
Only it still wasn't. Seven foot tall and muscularly lean, trained to fight and recently even trying to kill a man, Baron Rochester wasn't really ready for what was coming. The first three moves from Tor ripped the cartilage in the bigger mans right knee with a pop that nearly made Tor vomit. The other leg went a half minute later, as the man knelt gasping in pain. Then over the next half hour the pain got worse and worse. It was a punishment, not a fight. The man had defiled a child.
Some things couldn’t be left to stand.
The guards got that, and none of them even twitched a muscle to help the larger man, noble or not. There were limits after all and the guy had crossed them for certain.
When the man lay on his side gasping and crying, Tor relented and moved closer to him, speaking softly.
“If it happens again, I will find you and kill you. Remember this. These aren't idle words. Oh and just in case you want to challenge me to a duel or “make war” over this, my names Torrance Baker. I don't want you to go after the wrong man after all.”
Then they all left, leaving the man there alone. No need to humiliate him further.
No one said anything to him as they all walked away, not even to mention how stupid it was to beat up a royal and not kill them like that. Trouble would come of it, of course, it pretty much had to, didn't it? It wasn't until they got to the palace door that Smythe turned.
“Major, if you would log that as “unspecified corporal punishment”? I believe that should cover things nicely, at least the paperwork side.” The man looked at Tor askance again, but kept walking and didn't say anything until they were behind closed doors.
“I'd heard of course, about your control of combat rage, but that was… impressive. I really thought you were going to kill him, but you actually measured your blows the whole time. Bit of a fool, baiting a person casting aura like that.”
Tor nearly asked what the hell he was talking about when he noticed that Wensa stood behind him, still carrying his devices. Oops, nearly forgot those.
“Thanks Wensa. I'm sorry I used the guards practice yard without permission, please let George know that?” He raised his eyebrows, which got her to chuckle.
“I'll pass that along, though I doubt anyone minds overly. We all heard after all. Besides, just getting to walk after attacking the Counselor wouldn't do at all. This way saves troubles all around. No need for military intervention now.” She left at that, which made sense, as she actually had work to do. Unlike a certain fairly useless builder he could have named.
Smythe didn't hover over him or anything, and didn't suggest he apologize to the Baron either, which was a first given everything. It was the noble’s protocol after going all rage monster on someone and beating them. Then again, Tor had kind of meant to do what he did. Really, he hadn't felt like he was in a combat rage at all. Everyone else had backed off, sure, but that had just made sense at the time.
“So, what are the facts on these murders?” Tor asked, admitting that he'd faked his way through the whole interview.
The facts were frightening. A lot worse than the Baron had mentioned. The girls weren't just raped and killed, they were… brutalized first. Just to make it even scarier, all of the killings had taken place in the Capital and all in the last six months. So far it had been one girl per month, all found floating in the King's river. At first people had just thought they were drownings. Most of the girls weren't from the area and while people born in the Capital could all swim, some of the country folk couldn't.
One of the girls, the last one, was the daughter of a Baron though, and that meant that the King was able to unleash them on it. More than able, he kind of had too.
“I just got my marching orders last night, this was only the fourth interview I had on the matter. Not much real information so far. I'm planning on looking at the people in the girl’s lives starting tomorrow. It's a shame about them all, but this last one really hits home, the girl was popular in the Capital, very comely I hear? Ginger Coltress.”
“What?” Tor said too loudly by far.
Smythe nodded.
“Yes, there's no mistake, the body was found by her own sister, among others. Did you know her?” The voice was suddenly concerned, worried.
“No, I know two, well three of her sisters and have met her father. I… need to go and see to them. We're close.”
Tor didn't say more and started frantically running down the hallway, not even having a clue where he was headed. To Collette’s by the ice manufactory? Her father’s house? Wanting to hit himself in the head a few dozen times he realized the first person to ask would be the King. Now all he had to do was find the man. That wouldn't be easy, since this kind of thing probably meant closed meetings and scrambling to try and prevent war.
Of course, if this turned out to be some stupid political thing, Tor might be tempted to throw his own meager weight in behind the Baron. Finally he had to stop running and just stand, because he didn't know what else to do. He was in the front room, the foyer of the palace, by the front entrance when a hustle of people came in, crying and looking alternately scared and bloodthirsty. Tor understood that, because it was the Coltress family, and the Wards. Come for justice no doubt. He didn't wait walking up to them all directly.
“Smythe of Westend and I are on this personally. Whoever did it will be brought down.” Before the words were all the way out Tor was jumped and hugged by four different people.
Collette, got to him first, and held him tight enough that he was afraid his shield was about to activate. Nita and Petra tucked around the sides all crying, as, to his bafflement, did Maria Ward.
“Oh, Tor!” The Countess Ward wailed loudly.
“He killed her! That… that monster!”
Well, Tor got that anyone killing women like that had to be a monster, a real one even, no matter their reason or rationalizations, but this sounded a little more specific. He killed her. He who? Before the question could be asked Baron Coltress growled the answer.
“Fucking Baron Brian Rochester. I should have killed him when he did it, challenged him or gone to war, but no, I let Richard Fucking Cordes talk me down and now my daughters dead at his hands! I'll have his blood this time! I won't let this stand!”
The name Ginger didn't mean much to Tor, just some things the others had mentioned casually over time. Mainly Nita. They'd left that out during the interview. She was just victim seven. Not a name, so Tor hadn't know for certain that it was her. That seemed sad suddenly, but in the moment Tor didn't know what to do. He stepped back a bit from the group, hoping they'd listen for a second. That didn't happen though.
The Baron roared instead.
“You! This is all your fault! Just one of those things, you said, not something to war over you said. Let's not have blood… Well we have blood now don't we your Majesty!” The Baron closed on the King fast enough that there were suddenly a half dozen Royal Guards in the way. Weapons drawn too. That got a reaction from the Coltress family, half of whom had better than decent shields and weapons. Tor knew that because he'd given them to them.
“Wait!” A strong voice called out, female, and familiar. Patricia Morgan. Trice.
“Baron diddles isn't the killer, he's already been cleared. Smythe of Westend just told me about it. Tor did the questioning himself.” She looked at him as if to remind him that talking was a good thing.
“That's true. He didn't kill any of the girls.” Tor decided to leave out that he had tried to kill Westend, since that probably wouldn't help anything at the moment.
The Baron spun on Tor then, moving to scream in his face now, which at least made the Royal Guard relax a bit. Actually the man couldn't reach Tor's face, being too tall. Instead the good looking golden blond man glared downward as hard as he could.
“Fine! So he just gets to waltz out of the palace and everything is just fine because that rapist didn't kill anyone? Am I really supposed to feel better because some little boy is on the task?” The man kept going but Tor tuned him out. Of course the guy shouldn't feel better just because he was looking into this, that would be silly. While it wasn't fun to stand and take abuse over it, what else could he do really? The man had just lost his daughter in about the worst way imaginable. If it made him feel better to yell, then Tor could take it.
After the Baron wound down a little, still fuming, Richard shook his head.
“Baron Brian Rochester did not waltz out of the palace Stephen. He didn't even walk under his own power. Tor took him out back and beat him nearly to death. Without extreme intervention he'll likely be crippled for life. Both legs and both arms were nearly destroyed.” The voice was matter of fact, but not cold.
Trice walked forward, seeming a little scared but not timid, however that worked, “It's true, I watched the whole thing myself. Baron Diddles couldn't even roll out of the puddle of his own blood when Tor left. I had to kick him over so he wouldn't drown. Didn't know about the rest of this or I would have left him.”
Baron Coltress looked down again at Tor.
“Oh. I…” He faltered and stopped speaking.
Tor just nodded.
“We'll find who did this. Even if I have to question every person in the kingdom. Smythe has a search plan and…” OK, Tor had nothing else after that. Instead of continuing to let him run off at the mouth, the King invited everyone into a sitting room so that they could talk, plan and vent. Smythe was requested and food brought in. Everyone kind of sat uncomfortably, except Trice who mainly comforted Maria.
Blessedly a cup of that brown and bitter sludge used for the after effects of combat rage came then too. Whoever thought to order it was a saint. Short of healing himself with the amulet around his neck, nothing else would get rid of the headache, fatigue and headache that was starting to rip through his skull. The rage left you slow witted and made it hard to think of anything clever too. Oh. The healing device. Right. Tor hit the sigil and felt a brief pain run through his head and body as things corrected faster than the body really liked. Half a minute later he was fine. Having the ability to think again made a huge difference when it hit suddenly like that.
The situation wasn't good and of course, Smythe didn't know anything more than he'd told Tor, basically he wanted to start interviewing everyone that knew the girls in order to find out if there was anyone that might have known all of them, or if they all frequented the same places or had similar patterns. It made sense. A solid plan. Not comforting to the family at all.
Tor just hugged people and held their hands if they wanted. Maria Ward kept clinging to him every time Trice moved away for half a second, which wasn't comfortable to him at all. He tried to use Nita and Petra as a shield, but short of stiff arming the woman, he couldn't really keep her away. Tor didn't want her to touch him.
They weren't friends and hadn't agreed to try to be, like he had with Dorgal. He could forgive her for being mean to him years before and even trying to have him attacked, which honestly, he realized, she'd succeeded in. That didn't mean he wanted her on his lap crying. Then, it would be rude to just dump her on the floor too.
Just because he didn't like or trust her, that didn't mean her pain wasn't real.
Everyone was staying at the palace that night, because the King wanted them close and to make sure that the attack on Ginger hadn't been politically motivated. The words weren't said, but it was really about protecting them all, just in case. A lot of people still had some hard feelings about Marvin and Maria, since they'd inadvertently helped the Austran Larval assassins and then declared war in a panic. Sure it was a bonehead move, but no one denied that. Not even Count Ward and it had been his idea.
Tor had dinner in his room and tried to prepare for the next day, kind of wishing that Ali wasn't so busy herself. Even if she was too tired for sex, and who could blame her working non-stop like she and Karina were, it would have been comforting just to have her close for the night. Well, it wouldn't be either the first or last night he'd spend alone, so Tor got in bed early and willed himself to sleep. It wasn't like he couldn't use the rest.
It was a few hours later when he felt it, a now familiar and intimate stirring at his groin. Ali had come back?
“Hey.”
The voice came from next to him ear, soft and husky, familiar. Trice. That was all right then, he liked her and she was even kind of his girlfriend, right? She and Ali did things together, probably even did other people together like this, so this was natural for them. Tor carefully rolled a little so that he could give her a hug and then kissed her as the work below his waist increased in pace. Tor started to reach that point were his body would simply act no matter what he did when the action stopped and a strange voice came from below the sheets.
“Patricia, do you want a turn?”
Tor's sleep addled brain didn't get it at first. Not until Trice spoke.
“Sure Maria, we can take turns.” Her voice was casual and soft still. Pleasant.
That contrasted nicely with the scream Tor let out then, he realized.
“Ahhh!” Panicked and not really able to think yet, Tor woke up half way across the room, his back to the wall, night clothes half off and shield on.
“What?” Tor screamed at Trice, not able to see her in the dark.
“Why the freaking hell would you let her in?” Tor fixed his clothing and left the room fast. That was… insane. Trice knew better too. They'd talked about how he felt about Maria. He hadn't been complimentary, if he remembered correctly. The nicest he'd been was to say he was trying to not blame her forever for what she'd done as a fourteen year old.
Worse she'd been touching him. There. Uninvited. OK, he'd put up with things like that from his friends, but that woman was the nearest thing he had in the world to an enemy and she'd been… Using her mouth on him.
Tor wanted to just leave the building, the Capital, maybe the kingdom. Instead he stopped outside the door and spinning place. No, he wasn't running this time. Heading back in Tor hit the light panel. At least both girls had dressed.
“Get out. This is my room for the night and I didn't invite you. I don't know what you two have cooked up, some form of humiliation for me no doubt? Abuse me in my sleep then go and tell everyone how horrible I am in bed? Well, let me save you the trouble. Get out now and…” Tor was about to tell Trice never to talk to him again, which seemed fair at the moment. In a while he'd probably forgive her though, so he just pointed at the door instead.
“Both of you. Out. Don't come back without permission. From me. No sneaking in on the butlers say so or anything.”
Neither girl moved. Woman really, they weren't girls any more. Fine, that just mean they should have known better. Stupid royal rules. It didn't matter if he was being rude now even.
“Out.” His voice sounded firm. If that didn't do the trick what was he going to do, use violence?
That didn't happen, apparently the combat aura was enough. The girls scrambled then. Finally.
Great, now he had to fix that too. Stupid combat rage.
It took over an hour of meditation and left him waking up grumpy, even after fixing the after effects with the healing amulet. Too much of that and he'd damage his own field again. After climbing out of the bed with its shining gold colored silky looking sheets and spread on the top, bathing in the tan ceramic tub and shaving carefully, he headed out to look for people and maybe food. Healing twice like that had left him starving. Normally not feeling need for food directly on waking, today it felt like he could eat, and might not stop.
Ever.
Normally breakfast would be served in the small dining room off the second hallway, but today it was in the slightly larger one on the other side. It took a while to find, and some hints from the guards in the walls, but he finally made it. Today was egg toast and bacon, with preserves. Eggs too. He ate a full plate of food and still wanted more, but made himself stop, knowing that it was just a feeling now, not something truly required. Eating more than needed was a waste. Right now Tor didn't have the energy to bother with it.
Rolph was across the table, looking at Tor covertly, Trice sat next to him, looking guilty and barely eating. Karina sat down the table a ways with Ali, heads buried and papers in front of them, the whole thing looking rather official really, both wore black military uniforms even. Ali looked out of place but cute as hell in hers. On Karina it just looked right. Real. Tor snagged a fifth half of buttered toast and chewed on it, still feeling half starved for some reason. Some combination of two combat rage episodes in a single day followed by the rapid healing field he used? Probably. Nothing he could do about it but be more careful in the future.
When Connie came in she looked exhausted. Puffy eyed and a little bedraggled, which was nearly unheard of for her. She slumped into her chair at the head of the table and yawned, which got Tor going. After a bit they both laughed about it. She waved her right and at him to stop and spoke seriously enough that everyone paid attention, even the girls at the far end of the table.
“Richard and I managed to convince the Wards that Tor wasn't likely to declare war on them or hunt them both down. It took most of the night.” The look she gave Tor was dry and not nearly as humorous as the bit with the yawning.
“Tor, I admit that it was… unfortunate that the events of last night took place, especially right now, and I can't say that I really understand what they were thinking, myself. Perhaps Patricia could enlighten us as to why she led Maria Ward to your bed for a mid-night ambush, even knowing the history there as she does? What were you thinking dear?” The Queen didn't sound angry, just tired. Well, Tor thought, understandable. All his fault too, for making a scene. If not for that she'd have come to the table well rested and happy. It made him feel pretty bad for a moment.
Then Trice started talking.
“Well…”
Then she stopped.
Tor wasn't looking at her and didn't really care what she said overly. It would all work out to “Maria wanted to and Tor doesn't really count as a person, so why not?” Something like that. He shrugged and said it out loud just to fill the silence, which got everyone to stare at him. Really you'd think he'd know better by now, but no, stupid troll Tor has to keep opening his mouth. At least Trice didn't say anything after that. Good enough, whatever game they had going on they can try playing with someone else now.
Karina spoke softly enough that it surprised him a bit.
“That's… probably not it, is it? I mean, Tor does count. To me at least. I… really Tor they were probably just trying to be friendly, I mean, most guys like being woken up like that for extra sex.” She looked away and then stopped speaking too.
Trice tried again.
“It's… kind of complicated. Yes, Maria wanted to, because she wants to be your friend Tor. In her world what she was doing for you is, well a good thing. Most people like it well enough at least. I get that it wasn't the best plan ever, now, but it seemed all right at the time. It wasn't a trick or meant to hurt you in any way. I…” She blushed, which Tor knew was fake, because the girl wasn't capable of it without pushing blood into her face on purpose.
Blushing took a sense of shame, and she didn't have that.
“I guess I just wanted the two people I love most to get along too.”
It was probably true, Tor realized, but really, Maria? They'd never been friends and while Tor had tried to be gentle and kind towards her, that didn't mean he wanted her in his bed. Or even wanted her around at all. Why on earth would she assume he would? Because he saved her life a time or two? He'd saved a lot of people’s lives and really, if most of them showed up in his bed doing what she'd been, Tor would have to kill himself, or at least run away screaming.
Though come to think of it, that was his first reaction to her too.
“Run away!” He said out loud suddenly, his old battle cry, a joke of sorts, to remind him not to get into a fight if he could help it. The weapons instructor had been right to teach him that.
Rolph chuckled.
“Well, no one would blame you. Still, why should you be the one running? Maria took a chance and it backfired on her. That isn't your problem, if she wants you, she needs to do it properly and not just climb in your bed and claim ownership. Maybe send flowers?” The face was dead panned, but the joke as ill timed as always.
Ali smiled, “I like flowers. They're pretty.”
That…
Tor realized that he'd never gotten his wife flowers. Not at all. Magic junk, but nothing as simple as a bunch of wild flowers from a field. Was he the worst husband ever or what? No wonder she slept with everyone else in the world, he sucked so hard at his duties that she probably had to, just to get a little romance. Argh.
Tor shook his head, there was just too much, wasn't there? Rolph and Connie and Trice and Karina and Ali and…
Gods and bunnies.
Well, nothing for it now, all he could do was fix what he could.
What could he really do though? He couldn't just accept Maria as a friend. He'd tried and failed already, more than once. She'd hurt him for no reason and the fallout from that was still in play, hitting him all the time. Why wouldn't she just go away and leave him alone? He'd never done anything to her, had he?
Trice looked down at the table and started crying, as if that was going to help anything. Worse it was that thing she did where she half sobbed and tried to talk at the same time.
“But… you…oo… forgave… ave her. If you didn't then…n how could you forgive me…ee?”
Ahg. But that was at least a little different. Trice didn't try to have him hurt or killed, even if that last had been by mistake that Maria hadn't really meant. Besides, the King had ordered Trice to say mean things about him, Maria had just done it because she thought it was true. To her he'd been every bad thing in the world and it seemed true enough that it still influenced him, the way he thought and how he looked at other people.
It wasn't fair to ask him to put up with all this was it? Torrance Baker was a builder not anything else, not a plaything for little royal girls and boys and not someone that was going to put up with this crap any more. In short, Tor had had enough and more than enough.
Standing he noticed that everyone else had gone still, then suddenly scurried away. Well, great, more crap? Stupid combat rage.
“Trice, cut it out!” This got yelled. Screamed really, she looked scared for a second and the rage inside him doubled and then tripled.
“Damn it you fucking bitch, your fear response causes combat rage! Can't you see it or are you really just that stupid? Stop it! Control your fear you twit!” Tor started toward her, but she backed away rapidly. Not that it mattered, everyone else already lay on the ground, unable to move. Trice went down then too. Stupid freak.
Yeah, combat rage incidents had gone up a thousand percent in the last years? But only around her. It explained so much.
Tor walked out and sat in the hallway, just taking a seat on the hard stone floor. He had to gain control of himself before he started breaking things or making a bigger nuisance of himself. More to the point he had to do something about Trice before she managed to get people killed without even realizing it was her doing.
She was probably in denial about it, because normally she was smart enough to put two and two together.
Tor went within, and over the course of an hour and a half managed to get himself to calm the heck down, but he knew that wasn't enough. Focusing as hard as he could without losing himself totally, seeking the memories of having been effected by his curly haired friend, each time it had happened. When he had the basic feeling of the pattern she'd used to trigger others, he began to build a shield for it.
It was bizarre, the feeling of what happened. Tor thought, on some level at least, that he moved. He must have had water and food and someone had kept him, if not clean and tidy then at least from openly soiling himself as he sat on the cold marble floor in front of the dining room. It was a blink of an eye to him, just a small step from the start of the new build to the finish. Except it wasn't.
Tor came to himself sitting on a cushion in a closet off the main hallway. Another supply closet. Really, he reflected as he looked around, the palace had a lot of them, didn't it? When he tried to stand nothing happened. His legs moved, so did his arms. They didn't support his weight enough to stand however. Not at all. Oops.
Rubbing his face he found a full beard. He used to wear one for a while, so he could tell a few things from it now. The first was that this wasn't a few days or even weeks worth of growth. It was… long. Months worth at least. Gah. Well, that explained why he hadn't just gotten up and walked away.
The next thing he got was that the device in his hand was the most complicated thing he'd ever created by far. It was supposed to be a simple filtering device, just a shield to stop Trice from effecting everyone around her and triggering combat rage. That, in the end, was all it really was too. It was just that doing that wasn't as simple as it sounded apparently. At least it was pretty.
The sigil was a green and purple dragon that glowed in the air, inside a clear disk made of pure thought. The effect was stunning. The dragon moved and looked at you when you stared at it, purple eyes flashing and uselessly small wings flapping gently at nearly random times. There was no chain or string to hang it by, since it wasn't real. It felt real, like a smooth hard disk of stone, but it would simply stay where it was placed. On Trice at least.
Tor didn't have any amulets left on at all, which meant, he realized abstractly, that he was sitting naked. That got a blink. Who put a person in a closet naked?
Princess Karina came to mind, but maybe that was unkind. Chuckling he saw that there was a real glass, a pitcher of water made of clay with pretty designs pained in rust red on the outside and an old style poison detector sitting next to it. The first thing he did was check the water and then drank it all. It was fresh, so hopefully that meant that someone was checking on him regularly? That would be good, because when he tried to call out only a very soft croak came forth. It would come back, once he started moving around and using it. Everything would. At least that had been what had happened in the past.
The biggest problem, other than the whole not being able to move thing, was the weeping sores all over his backside and legs. Eek. He'd heard of that, wounds from not moving for way to long, but the people that got them were almost always near death. That, Tor knew, wasn't the case here. The wait felt like it was long, but his sense of time was gone, so it may have been minutes or could have been days when Rolph opened the door and saw his open eyes. His friend didn't react much.
“Oh, opened your eyes again? I don't suppose your finished with that… whatever it is this time are you? I brought food again, think you can eat?”
“Yeah.” Tor croaked softly, then cleared his throat and tried for more. It was still just a croak, but neared a level that would be nearly conversational speech.
“Water would be good too, and clothes. How long was I out?”
Rolph started, literally jumping back with a small scream, then he rushed forward.
“Tor! God, gods and little fish! I thought you were dead! We've all been waiting for you to die… Gods!”
Agreement not to get to physical or not, Rolph hugged him and then smothered him with kisses, which was a bit off-putting. Plus it felt funny with the beard. The crying out from his giant friend got other people to come running, all of them looking grim at first, until they realized that the small naked Tor was actually awake. Not dead. He smiled, mainly hidden behind the thick black beard on his face.
“Hey everyone… Um, could I maybe have some clothes and my amulets? If they haven't been sold to pay my rent for this space I mean.” Tor glanced around the closet.
It made sense, not the rent part, but the closet. He was out of the way and if not comfortable, at least he had a little pad to sit on, which was actually made of shield material, so one that he'd made. Really, it should have kept him from having sores, being as soft as it was, so Tor must have been there for a while.
Even the King came in and promptly shut the door, leaving only Rolph and Tor inside the suddenly tiny space with him
“Alright there Tor?” The man said gently, as if speaking to a mad man.
“A little sore and tired. Hungry and thirsty. Other than that I'm fine, I think. Sorry about “leaving” like that. I needed to get something to help Trice. Where is she? I should take her this…” He tried to get up again and nearly made it on his own, actually standing when Rolph took most of his weight for him.
His friend held him steady and gasped when he saw what Tor held in his hand. The tiny dragon looked at him and fluttered, almost as if in recognition. It tilted it's head cutely.
“Gods… that's… is it responding to me?” Rolph touched the field, which caused the little fake creature to dodge first, then “attack” the big finger with its claws. It boxed at them though, like a human would, not scratching or trying to bite like an animal.
The King’s eyes went wide as well.
“Well, I'm sure that will help. She's been a little upset since the events of two months ago Tor. Locked herself in a room and won't come out actually. We've been watching her to make certain she doesn't harm herself, but other than that, well, she won't talk to anyone even. Something about her causing all the combat rage.” The man seemed questioning, his gaze didn't waiver.
Tor nodded back.
“Yeah. I think it's her battle aura honestly. When she gets scared or too mad it triggers other people into a rage. I figured it out when I finally noticed that she was always there when I went into one myself. Always. And each time she was focused on me and worried, scared or angry. That last time kind of confirmed it.”
The King grimaced and sighed, “we've, kind of feared that was the case. It happens occasionally, It's a Morgan family trait, but we weren't positive. Or well, probably trying to hope it wasn’t the case more than anything else.” Richard looked at his son and frowned.
“We'll have to sequester her then, for everyone’s safety. It's the only thing we can do now.”
Rolph looked shaken suddenly.
“For the rest of her life?” He spoke so quietly Tor almost couldn't hear him. The King could.
“Yes. I'm afraid so.”